A techno-neon colored red-blue guitar
muted under Dylan’s cigarette-lipped visage
eyelids closed to open your mind’s eye
on funky rat bastards posing
more lies so pour yourself another
drink some more
love all you want
it’s all you’ll ever need to know
although you’ve been urged to shake up the pattern
try to write longer lines maybe consider the prose poem you know that verse that pushes through to the end of the line regardless of meter regardless of time just keeps on keeping on with whatever you try to say but your trouble is you want to break the line
you want to carve your view
into their minds
fuck with their ears and eyes
your sense of the beat
you want to sing them dancing in the street
to the Easy Rider soundtrack
bring back John Kay
and the Steppenwolf pleasure of taking a goddamn stand
against tombstones in our eyes
like Bob Dylan the Byrds the Animals the Airplane
so many great songs too many bands to name
you went to an art gallery today
what a sweet way to spend an hour absorbing the crafted heart-thoughts
of other idlers like you
one of whom you’ve conned into covering your book
lucky men live in communities
where talented people do art for the love of doing
how else do you place a thousand dollar painting on the front of a collection of poems
most people wouldn’t shell out twenty bucks for
you don’t know which way the wind blows unless you go outside
open the door open your mouth spit your mind
it’s alright ma you’re only tryin’
to continue the show
only buyin’ into transcendence for the length of this poem
we all know sooner or later
that hard rain’s gonna fall
look out your window
we’re all disappearing in our reflection upon the reason
the seasons keep traveling on
so don’t think twice
just go there and drink it in
straight up no ice
